The Fables of the Stardom Shepherd
by Avimus
Summary: One year after the end of the final battle, a green dragon stranded on the open sea is spotted and picked out by a great white ship with an eagle masthead. The dragon's name is Sterne, and what he finds on the boat is a purple dragon, a slightly deranged captain, and a quest for identity.


**The Fables of the Stardom Shepherd**

**What would I decide other than to write a sea novel about Spyro the purple dragon? The idea came to me in early September, and since then, I've been trying to scrounge up enough between time to write this baby. Unfortunately, if time is currency, then I am a failing stockbroker.  
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**Just for kicks, I formatted the chapter so that it begins with a journal written by the protagonist to a dragoness named Yassi and then switched the point-of-view to Yassi. I hope you enjoy it!**

-Fable #1: How to Run Away-

Have you ever wondered why a tree looks the way it does? How it branches into a network of two-dimensional shapes, forms a lattice-work of arms. How, early in the spring, it styles its doo one way and in the winter, sheds it completely? You begin to think that trees are vain, that they try to look beautiful only to satisfy those petty animals on the ground. But then, you realize that beauty in nature serves a function, and that is to survive. Trees, like people, wish only to cling to what vitality they have.

The events of the past day have made me wonder whether I shall ever look at a tree again, or whether I shall ever look at you again, Yassi. I lie here now with a stranger who goes by the name of Shad, a mole. He's a merry old gentleman, talks in stutters and coughs (some of which get under my scales to no end), wears a worn, black coat. Shad has given me something that will consummate my dreams: a map of uncharted isles in a vial contained in a holster that attaches to my ankle. The holster in question is made of leather tanned from the membrane of a Dreadwing's wing.

"Take it," he had said to me in his stutter. "You'll need it more than I will."

We are in a cave, settled around the dying coals of a fire. The cave ventilates well, because the smoke does not obscure our vision. Shad reclines against an old rock with a pipe in hand. He makes rings that float up and up and eventually dissipate into the smoke from the fire. His pointed nose scrunches up every time he bites the end of the pipe, and his beetle-black eyes hide whatever thoughts he might be thinking.

"Why ya' runnin' and who ya' runnin' from?" he asks me unexpectedly.

I answer the question tentatively because I don't want him to recognize me (not that we've met before, but I'm used to strangers knowing my name). "Saliston," I say. "I'm a Pre there, a year from Warfang University."

"Warfang? That's my place, too."

He twirls the pipe, and the smoke wraps around it like malleable wire. It floats upward in a pretzel shape and then dissipates.

"What's a Pre?" he asks.

"A Pre is what you are before you come of age," I explain, surprised that somebody from Warfang would not know the ways of the system, a mole albeit. "You study the theory before it goes into practice, so that you'll be prepared when you get to University."

He makes a clicking sound with his mouth. "In other words, you're one of dem spoiled private school kids from the north si' of town. 'Spose you've got it in yer head that you'll go on some grand adventure and then come back all glorified and everything. Well I got news for ya', son." He gets up and walks towards me. Even though he is a fourth of my size, he seems enormous. "It ain't possible to make yerself a hero. Heroes're born."

I think I look scared, because he backs off a bit.

"I never said I want to be a hero," I say in a tone that must have sounded unconvincing.

"Well ya' implicated it." He rests his back on the rock and starts puffing again. The glowing embers are starting to dim.

"Son," he asks. "How many years you got on you?"

"Ten."

"I would'a guessed ya' was older from the way y'er speaking," he says gruffly. "High and sophisticated, ain't ya'?"

Shad is a kind of person I could grow to like. He is so humble, Yassi, so humble that he reminds me of you. I know I haven't left yet, and that I could still fly back. But I won't change my decision. Father said that you can never retrace your steps. Once you've shattered your reputation, you cannot cultivate it back the same way. Once you've done taken great measures to experience a dream in reaity, you cannot regret it. And I don't.

Out of the blue, Shad lifts his head up as if I'd said something to him, even though I had been perfectly quiet.

"Lord Sterne," he says. This time, it wasn't a question.

I felt my legs tremble from the jolt of panic I received. "You know me?"

He taps a few ashes out of his pipe, careful not to get any on his coat. "How could I not know yer name, son? Y'er the earth dragon son of the Duke of Saliston, the great leader controlling the district north of Warfang. He's only the most powerful dragon in these parts after the Guardians, and they've all but disappeared."

"I know who my father is," I grunt through gritted teeth. "And I'll have you know that there is nothing—I repeat—nothing, in a name."

"No need to get haughty with me, young 'un," he says. Then, he laughs. "Y'er already haughty enough, m'Lord."

And just like that, what might have been a good night is utterly ruined. Imagine me, trying for a fresh start only to discover that the first stranger I meet knows that I'm a prig. It dampens the mood!

* * *

Yassi crouched behind the leaves of a swamp fern. She could smell the sweet and syrupy aroma that the fern released, and she resisted the temptation to lick the spores. The plant concealed all but her bright yellow tail, which stuck out of foliage like some sort of vibrant growth.

What Yassi hadn't noticed was her elder brother, Nima, who was stepping closer and closer to her, haunches scrunched in to make his form as small as possible. Despite the fact that he had the same neon-electric scales as his sibling, he blended in like a katydid on a tree stem.

The shadow crept across the ravine. His eyes fixated on the yellow tail, Nima leapt into the air gracefully as if to take off for a flight, but then veered downward and shot through the foliage. A very audible _thunk _resounded through the leaves. Nima had his arm wrapped around his sister's mouth before she could scream.

"Caught on unawares again," Nima said as he released her. "You'd think you would learn after the umpteenth time or so."

Yassi prepared to berate him for sneaking up on her when she noticed that he was chuckling softly. "I sensed you," she defended herself. "I just wanted to make you think you had the upper claw."

Nima smirked one of his famous smirks that stretched across the width of his face. He was known in his hometown for being slick as butter at wheedling any situation to his advantage, and that smirk was his trademark for duplicity.

"Was that your intention the last ten times you failed to notice me?" he asked, circling around her like a shark.

He stopped moving and straightened himself up. "But seriously, if I had been an ape leader, you would be mashed Frog Weed by now. I agreed to let you come with me—against Papa's will, I should add—under the condition that you would obey my every order and stay vigilant, for Ancestor's sake."

Yassi stared at him through glossy purple eyes, absorbing every word he was saying, though she had tucked her tail in tightly to avoid a repeat accident. Her brother was a heavenly body in her eyes, her ultimate role model. The Warfang Army had taken him in months ago because they thought he had potential to scale the ranks and eventually take a leadership position. Even though he was only seventeen, a year into the University, they accepted him as an intern for the ShadowHounds, an investigation body for the Army.

"This mission is not meant to be dangerous," he said, ushering her out from under the fern and leading her through the ravine. "If it was, I would not have taken you. But it pays to be careful."

The pair soon reached the top of the ravine. They looked nearly identical, except for Nima's much bulkier size. The older brother had a good seven years on his sibling.

"What are we supposed to be doing again?" Yassi asked.

Nima bit his lip. "We're, erm, here on a scouting mission."

"Scouting for what?"

"A dragon."

"Who?"

"An important dragon."

"Why?"

"Well," Nima began. "He has the unique power to shut up overly talkative dragonlings."

"Really?"

"No."

And in that way the conversation carried on as Nima and Yassi trekked through the humid swamp. Nima could grow irritated with the young dragoness, but he would never jaw off at her. It was for that reason that their parents—respectable dragons from upper Warfang—would never have doubted leaving young Yassi to Nima's paws. That said something about Nima's personal fortitude, that his parents trusted him to tolerate Yassi's energy.

Sunlight barely squeezed through the sieve that was the upper canopy of dark leaves. Where the light did come through, it revealed steam from the humidity of the swamp. Orange mushrooms that thrived in the humid environment were distributed bountifully at the edge of the pathway, and occasionally, a Toad Weed would emerge from its burrow and stick out its plant-like proboscis to taste the air.

At the edge of one such cluster of mushrooms, Nima stopped and held out one of his brawny forelegs to halt Yassi as well.

"You hear something?" Nima whispered.

His sister didn't have to respond. A pair of voices, one of them unmistakably obnoxious, were echoing through the clearing. Nima hustled Yassi under one of the orange mushrooms, where the pair's scales would blend in.

A dim yellow orb surged around the corner of the clearing and bounced down the path. Behind it, a dragonling with scales the color of violet flowers stumbled to keep up with the yellow orb. Halfway to the mushroom where the two electricity dragons were hidden, the young dragon tripped and somersaulted sideways into a Toad Weed.

The plant gushed menacingly out of its burrow as if to stab the dragon, but the young one had already rolled out of the way. The Toad Weed made a grumbling sound and disappeared back into the ground.

Nima pointed at the dragon. "I knew Murdoch was right. That's the one they saw in the forest," he told Yassi. "The Purple One. They say he will help us win the war against Cynder."

"He doesn't look that powerful to me," Yassi sniffed. "What are we going to do, nab him?"

"Actually, Yassi," Nima began. "I brought you along for a reason other than that you would have nagged me to death otherwise."

The purple dragon was getting ready to leave, but the orb of light had flown back.

"Can't keep up, Lardwings?" the voice shouted. Yassi darted her head around, looking for the source of the voice. "It must suck to be the lame one of the litter, huh?"

"You know, Sparx," the purple dragon responded to the orb. "I'd rather be lame than an undersized twig."

The orb hovered above the dragon's head. "You know, Spyro, come say that to my face!" The orb flew higher. "Oh, that's right, you can't do that, because you can't get your fat butt off the ground!"

The odd conversation was becoming confusing to Yassi. She poked her brother from under the cap of the mushroom.

"It's a dragonfly," Nima muttered to her, keeping his eyes locked on the young purple dragon, who was strolling in the opposite direction with the orb, still arguing. "I've seen them before. They tend to be somewhat reclusive. I'm surprised this one's befriended a dragon."

The muscular electricity dragon touched Yassi on the shoulder, urgency in his cyan eyes. "Listen, I want you to go introduce yourself to this young dragon, and give him some background on Warfang and Saliston, but whatever you do, do not mention the War."

"Why not?" Yassi protested. "If we're here to recruit new soldiers, then why not tell them about the battles they're going to fight in?"

"Trust me," he said, taking his paw off her shoulder and giving her an affectionate nudge. "Give Spyro your Yassi charm. You could make friends with just about anyone."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Merely an observation."

The lively dragoness was preparing to dart off after the two bickering friends when she felt someone behind her. It wasn't that she sensed him with any of the traditional five senses, but more that an aura of greatness washed over her head. The presence gave her a chill—not a chill of terror, but one of excitement and adrenalin.

From behind Yassi and Nima, an elder dragon that could have been four times Nima's size emerged out of the underbrush. His scales glimmered like embers from a flame that had burnt for a hundred years. Frills that mimicked the lapping tongues of fire scattered mismatched along his neck. But the part of him that burnt with the most fervor was his eyes, great crimson orbs of hope.

"You don't want to be doing that, young ones."

**A/N: Ooooh, it's Ignitus. Looks like both he and Spyro come into Sterne and Yassi's story. **

**Originally, this chapter was to contain a bit more info, but I couldn't finish it in time for NaNoWriMo. It's my first year doing National Novel Writing Month, and even though I'd rather play around with Spyro a bit, I don't want any distractions while I'm writing the novel (even if that means neglecting poor Spyro). It's for that reason that I gave you this preview of FSS! **

**I should get back to writing this in December, when NaNo is over, so if you're curious, keep this chapter stashed away in your alert box so you know when I'm updating chapters again. **

**May you not insult any of those erudite yetis,**

**-Avimus**


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